Lion of Thunder: A Medieval Romance

Book 5: Sons of de Lohr (De Lohr Dynasty)

by Kathryn Le Veque

Genres: Ancient World Romance; Viking Romance

Synopsis

This is the moment lovers of the de Lohr Dynasty series have been waiting for.

Christopher de Lohr's (Rise of the Defender) youngest son takes front and center in this epic Medieval Romance. Sins, sacrifice, and secrets are the order of the day in LION OF THUNDER!

Strong women, enemies to lovers, and a little grumpy sunshine prevail!

Westley de Lohr has a secret – he's been betrothed to the young girl who was his ‘best friend' when he was about five years of age. Her father was a powerful neighbor and Westley's father, seeing an opportunity, brokered a betrothal for his youngest son. As her father's only child, she would inherit a strong fiefdom and Christopher wanted that for his son
.
But things have changed.

Elysande du Nor used to pull Westley's hair and make his life miserable, but somehow in that childhood fighting, two fathers saw the opportunity for a betrothal. The truth was that Elysande grew up, fostered as a proper young woman, but never lost that tomboyish nature. When Westley finally shows up at her family home to claim his betrothed, Elysande realizes the boy she used to taunt has, indeed, become a man.

And a very handsome one.

Now, a betrothal doesn't seem so bad, but as Westley and Elysande come to know one another as adults, trouble is brewing. In a border skirmish that Westley participates in, Elysande receives word that Westley has been taken prisoner. While Christopher and the rest of the de Lohr war machine try to figure out how to reclaim their son, Elysande goes straight to Westley's captor with a proposal.

And it's not what anyone expected.

Join Westley and Elysande as two childhood friends grow to love one another as adults, where passion and loyalty grows into something stronger than life itself. Courage is something that stirs the soul, and Westley and Elysande must show their mettle in a situation that becomes more dire than either could imagine, but when death comes for a loved one, it threatens to destroy all they've built.

Bring the tissues for this impactful, poignant romance.

Read in KINDLE UNLIMITED!

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Release date: March 21, 2025

Publisher: Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

Print pages: 415

Sample

Year of Our Lord 1251
Massington Castle, Herefordshire

Demesne of Westley de Lohr, Lord Ledbury and Staunton, Duc de Nevele

“Never… again!” The woman seated upon the birthing chair, deep in the throes of labor,
had been cursing her situation for the past two hours. “I will never do this again. Do you
hear me?”
The women attending her birth were trying not to grin. Dustin, Countess of Hereford and
Worcester, was holding the right hand of the woman while a midwife nestled between her
legs, monitoring a little head that was trying to push its way into the world.
“Of course, Ella,” Dustin said, squeezing her hand and kissing her temple. “Never again.”
A contraction rolled over the woman in the chair and she grunted loudly, trying to push
forth a very big baby that had been almost a full day in coming.
“If he so much as looks at me again, I shall gouge his eyes out,” she said, gripping Dustin’s
hand to the point of breaking bones. “If he says to me that he wants more children, I will
chop him into tiny pieces and send him back to you. And you will not bury him!”

Dustin couldn’t help the giggles now. She looked at the woman’s own mother on the
opposite side of her, holding her left hand, and the two of them were in stitches with the
sheer rage coming from the woman in childbirth.
She was positively hilarious.
“I am not to bury him?” Dustin said. “What do I do with his pieces, my darling?”
“Leave him for the birds,” the woman growled. “Let them pick his bones clean. That is
what he deserves for doing this to me!”
Another big contraction rolled over her and she cried out as she bore down, encouraged
by the women around her.
“The head is birthed, Lady Ledbury,” the midwife said happily. “Small breaths, my lady.
Pant shortly. That’s right, lass. You’re doing splendidly.”
“I hate you,” Lady Ledbury spat. Then she looked at her mother. “And you. I hate you,
too. I hate everyone. I especially hate my husband.”
Dustin burst out in a fresh round of giggles. “Should I tell him to flee?”
Lady Ledbury turned to her mother-in-law. “Would you, please?” she said seriously. “Tell
him to start now. He will need time to get away from me because at this moment, I could
leap out of this chair and—”
Another wave of contractions hit her and she bore down again, but the midwife quickly
put a stop to it. “Nay, lady, do not push,” she said, clearly trying to do something with the
child. “Not yet. His shoulders are not turning yet.”
That brought a groan of pain from the laboring woman. At that moment, the chamber
door opened and a dark-haired woman entered, bearing hot water and towels. Dustin
motioned for her daughter to set the things down.

“On the table,” she told them. “Chrissy, come here. Hold Ella’s hand before she breaks
mine.”
Christin de Lohr de Sherrington, who had birthed seven children herself, quickly took
her mother’s position and put her free arm around Lady Ledbury’s shoulders, hugging her.
“I know this is awful,” she said. “But it will be over soon, I swear it. You will soon be
holding your handsome son in your arms.”
Lady Ledbury liked Christin a great deal. She leaned into her, accepting the comfort, as
Dustin got down on her knees next to the midwife. Dustin had birthed ten children herself,
so she’d been through this a few times. She knew how it worked. The baby’s shoulders
were wide and the midwife was trying to move them into the proper position. Between the
midwife and Dustin, they were able to move the baby slightly, and with the next big
contraction, Lady Ledbury bore down and the baby slipped right into her grandmother’s
hands.
“He’s here, Ella,” Dustin said happily. “You have a son. A very big son!”
Lady Ledbury was leaning against Christin as her own mother let go of her left hand to
see to her very first grandchild.
“Is he well?” Lady Ledbury asked, breathing heavily from the exertion. “Does he have ten
fingers and ten toes?”
At that moment, the baby let out a wail and the women in the room collectively gasped
with joy. They began laughing and weeping at the same time as Dustin cleaned off the baby
and the midwife dealt with the afterbirth.
“Let me see him,” Lady Ledbury begged. “Oh, please let me see him.”

Dustin was cleaning the blood away before tightly swaddling the baby in a towel. Lifting
him up, she handed the child to Christin, who in turn put him in his mother’s arms.
“He looks just like Westley,” Dustin said, smiling broadly. “From that cry, he sounds like
him, too.”
Lady Ledbury laughed through her tears. She was no longer cursing her husband now
that the joy of her newborn was filling her heart and mind. She had a big, fat baby in her
arms with her husband’s blond hair and big mouth, and she inspected his fingers and his
feet and toes as the child wailed and squirmed.
It was the most magical moment of her life.
“Mother?” she said to her own mother. “Did you see him?”
Lady Ledbury’s mother came near, gazing at her new grandson with the greatest of
delight. “He looks a little like your brother, I think,” she said, misty-eyed. “Emory had that
same turn of the nose.”
Lady Ledbury laughed. “Do not tell my husband that,” she said. “But… I wish I could tell
Father he has a grandson. I do believe he would be happy about it.”
Lady Ledbury’s mother put her hand on the baby’s head, gently. “Mayhap,” she said
softly. “But Marius chose to remain locked in grief since the day your brother died, and it
was the grief that killed him. And the drink.”
Lady Ledbury felt a stab of sadness for the death of her father just a few months earlier.
She agreed with her mother that alcohol killed him because he’d drowned himself in it for
years. It was the only thing that eased his agony after his only son’s death, and it wasn’t
anything he ever wanted to recover from. His death had been from a drunken fall, and Lady

Ledbury knew that the constant intoxication had caused it. She could only hope her father
was happy now, happy in eternity with his only son.
At the moment, Lady Ledbury was quite happy on the mortal plane with hers.
“I wish Freddie were here, at least,” she said, gazing lovingly at the infant. “My dearest
cousin. She would be so thrilled for me.”
Her mother gently touched her cheek. “Freddie is with her de Sherrington husband in
London,” she said. “You know that she could not come, but I will send her a missive
announcing the babe. She’ll be having her own in a few months.”
“I know,” Lady Ledbury said. “I think it’s wonderful that our children will be able to grow
up together.”
“Mama!”
Someone was calling up to the keep from the bailey outside, causing everyone to turn in
the direction of the windows that overlooked the main bailey of the castle. With a grin,
Christin went over to the window and peered out of it to see her brothers—all of
them—out in the bailey along with several grown nephews. As was usual when children
were born, the men retired to wait as the women did the work, but in this case, they’d been
in the great hall of Massington and they were all fairly drunk. When Westley saw his sister,
he extended his arms beseechingly to her.
“Chrissy!” he called. “I heard a baby cry. Is my son here? Finally here?”
Christin turned to Lady Ledbury, with the baby in her arms as her mother was
inspecting the child.
“Well?” she said. “What do you want me to tell him?”

Lady Ledbury smiled, tears in her eyes. “Tell him that he has a fine son,” she said. “And
tell him that I love him very much.”
Christin turned back to the crowd below. “You have a son, Westley,” she called down to
them. “Congratulations. And your wife says that she loves you very much.”
A collective roar went up from the men in the bailey, all of them hugging Westley and
raising their cups. Westley was so happy that he spun around in circles before coming to a
halt, laughing. Then he bolted for the keep.
“I’m coming up!” he shouted. “I must see my wife and child!”
As the crowd of men retreated back to the great hall, Westley ran up the stairs until he
came to the chamber he and his wife shared. But when he tried the door, he found it bolted.
Sadly, he rattled the latch.
“May I come in, please?” he said. “Please, my love?”
Inside the chamber, the midwife was having some difficulty with the afterbirth and Lady
Ledbury was back to being in pain. She handed the baby over to her mother so she could
concentrate on finishing the birthing process.
“Not now,” she said, grunting. “Wait a moment, please.”
“But I want to see you!”
“Westley, please wait until I am presentable,” she said irritably. “I am not finished with
this yet.”
Westley’s joy was diminishing as he heard her grunt and groan. “Is something wrong?”
he said, feeling some panic. “Please, Ella… is something wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong,” Dustin called to him, watching the midwife work. “Birth is a long
process, West. Be patient, please. You will see your wife and son soon enough.”

Outside on the landing, Westley was feeling some sadness. He could hear the baby crying
and his wife grunting, and it made him feel so incredibly helpless. He’d purposely stayed
away from the keep since his wife’s labor started simply so he wouldn’t have to hear her
cries of pain. He couldn’t stand it. Sliding down the wall next to the door, he ended up on
his buttocks, listening to the distressing sounds in the chamber.
“I cannot wait to see Arius,” he called through the door, trying to focus on the positive.
“That is the name we decided on, is it not? Arius de Lohr. He will be the most powerful
knight on the marches. Far more powerful than any nephews I have. Arius Christopher de
Lohr!”
The groaning inside the chamber had died down a little and Westley lifted a hand,
putting it against the door as if to feel his little family inside. He was drunk, that was true,
and it made him more emotional than usual. All he could see was his wife in the midst of
labor, blood flying everywhere, and at the end of it came a son that was the size of a…
“Oh, God,” he muttered. Then he called out to his wife. “My dearest? Is our son so large
that he is making you weep? Did you give birth to a baby the size of a newborn calf?”
Inside the chamber, Lady Ledbury heard him. “A what?” she nearly shrieked. “Of course
not, West. He’s a perfect size.”
Westley pounded on the door softly. “I do not believe you,” he said. “You have given birth
to a giant child and you are afraid to tell me. Mama, does he have a head the size of a
pumpkin?”
Dustin started laughing at her ridiculous son. “Westley, do shut up,” she said. “He has a
perfectly sized head.”

Westley could hear her laughing. That gave him some hope that the situation wasn’t so
dire, and he slumped against the wall as he thought of his firstborn.
A son.
“I am a father,” he muttered to himself, smiling. Then his smile vanished. “Mama? Arius
is the first grandson born since Papa…”
He couldn’t finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant. Since the passing of his
beloved father last year. Inside the chamber, Dustin’s smile faded as well.
“I’d not thought of that,” she said to her son. “But it is true. That shall always make Arius
special to us, don’t you think?”
Westley thought on the faceless son he would soon be holding, the one his father would
never see. Emotions were bubbling up in his chest so that it was difficult to contain them. It
was such a joyful moment, but it was also a bittersweet one. Some people died, others were
both, and life just kept moving on whether or not one was ready for it.
“I shall sing a song to my son,” he said after a moment. “A song meant just for him so he
will hear my voice and know me.”
Exhausted after the passing of the afterbirth, Lady Ledbury seemed to come alive at the
mere mention of one of her husband’s songs. She’d spent their marriage, and even before,
listening to the songs Westley created off the cuff, sometimes wild and senseless songs, but
always incredibly entertaining. She knew that this birth had his emotions surging because
of his father’s absence, and she was genuinely sympathetic, but not sympathetic enough to
sit through one of those silly tunes.
Maybe later, but not now.
She needed help.

“Nay, Mama,” she said to Dustin. “I am not in the mood for one of his songs. He’ll sing
about pumpkin-headed babies coming out of my privates or he’ll sing about my giving birth
to a calf. Please do not let him do it.”
Dustin understood. “Westley?” she said, calling to the door. “If you sing one of those
songs, I’ll not let you—”
It was too late. Westley began to sing through the seam in the door.

My son, my son!
I bear advice for you.
When I was a child, I met a wandering man.
“How can you wander?” asked I.
And he gave me his wise reply.

Do not live your life like a stupid fool, my son.
Today might feel like a day to be stupid,
But that is no way to exist.

The next day, I thought my eyes had broken as I gazed upon my son.
We will cry so well together, lad.
We will smile together, all around England.
We will kill happily.
We will…

“Westley, no more!” Dustin yanked the door open. “Stop singing that ridiculous song and
come in and see your son before I have to cut my ears off to stop myself from hearing your
singing.”
With a grin, Westley lurched to his feet, feeling a little woozy from the drink, but it didn’t
stop him from coming into the chamber. Yet his grins were met with a pale wife and blood
on the floor, on her legs, and the hem of her shift. The smile vanished from his face as he
went to her, appalled at the sight of so much blood.
“Are you well?” he asked with horror, reaching out to take her hand. “Oh, God, Ella. Do
not die!”
He wrapped her head and shoulders up in his big arms, hugging her tightly as she
comforted him. “I am not going to die,” she assured him softly. “It is the fact of childbirth. I
told you not to come in until it was over.”
He bent over, kissing her head gently. “I could not stay away any longer,” he whispered,
his lips against her forehead. “I had to see you.”
“West?” Dustin said softly. “Do you wish to meet your son?”
Westley was still holding on to his wife as he turned to see his mother holding a little
bundle. Awed, and perhaps even a little afraid, he peeled back the swaddling from the
child’s face and was met with perfect features and tufts of blond hair.
“Oh… God,” he breathed. “Look at him. He is magnificent!”
Smiling, Dustin moved to place the baby in Lady Ledbury’s arms. As she stepped back to
stand with Christin and Lady Ledbury’s mother, all of them smiling at the new family, the
new parents took a good look at their son.

“He has fingers,” Westley announced as if thrilled and surprised. “Mama, did you see? He
has all of his fingers!”
Dustin chuckled, as did Lady Ledbury’s mother and Christin. “Aye, I saw,” Dustin said.
“He has all of his fingers and toes.”
Westley had the swaddling pulled open so he could look at his son’s legs and feet. Even
his belly. It was round and he rubbed it gently, grinning at the fussy baby. But all the while,
Lady Ledbury was watching her husband and the absolutely unrestrained joy over what he
was seeing. It was enough to bring tears to her eyes.
“Arius Christopher,” she murmured. “He looks just like you.”
Westley couldn’t take his eyes off the baby but managed to kiss his wife, sweetly, on the
lips. “He looks like a de Lohr,” he said. “I think he’s going to be blond.”
“Of course he is,” Lady Ledbury said. “He’ll make you proud, my love.”
Westley looked at her then. “He already has,” he said. “And so have you. This is a moment
I never thought I would experience, not ever.”
“Having a son?”
He shrugged, looking back at the baby. “Having a son with someone I love more with
each breath I take,” he said. “I could sing a song about it, but I do not think you want me to.”
Lady Ledbury snorted, putting her hand on her husband’s cheek. “You have sung plenty
of songs about it,” she said. “But I like it much better when you simply tell me.”
He kissed her palm. “I love you very much.”
“And I love you very much,” she said. “Did you stop to realize what day this is?”
He nodded, pushing his big finger into the baby’s hand and being rewarded with a strong
grip. “Aye,” he said. “It is my son’s birthday.”

“It is your father’s birthday.”
Westley’s eyes widened and he looked at her. “My God,” he said in shock. “I do not know
why I did not remember that.”
“I thought you did, West,” Dustin said from her position over near the wall. “What a
wonderful way to honor your father, with a grandson born on his birthday. He would have
been delighted.”
Westley turned his attention back to his son. “Arius Christopher,” he murmured. “You
shall bear his name and his birthday. But you do not know how close you came to not being
born, lad. I’ll have to tell you how your mother and I met someday. You’ll never believe it.”
That had Lady Ledbury laughing softly. “Sometimes I still do not believe it either,” she
said. “If my mother had not been so stubborn…”
“And if my father had not been so stubborn…”
“We have them to thank for our happiness, West.”
Westley nodded, still fixated on his son. “And I do, every day,” he said. “But those first
few days were certainly days of chaos and rapture.”
“It will make quite a story when our children are old enough.”
Lady Ledbury was absolutely right.
The tale of Westley de Lohr and Elysande du Nor made quite a story, indeed. ...